


Tomorrow never came

by GwenCassandra



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Multi, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenCassandra/pseuds/GwenCassandra





	1. Prologue

 

Prologue  
  
It was the 11th day of November and that night Éponine decided to cut her wrists.  
She cut deep, deeper than she thought she would have the courage to get. She sat down on her bed, his left arm kept still between her knees. She took some deep breaths, her bottom lip between her teeth and then she made the first cut. It wasn’t as painful as she expected: it was just a sting, nothing someone like her could not handle. Then, at the second and deeper cut, she quickly changed her mind. When the razor blade sunk in her skin, all she could feel was a strong burning sensation, all she could smell was blood and all she could hear was the sound of her skin being slowly cut. When the razor blade got to the vein and blood started to flow more and more, she closed her eyes and laid down on her bed.  
Her head was gettin heavier and heavier every second and she finally realized she should have cut her right wrist first: now that the left one was harmed she didn’t have the strenght to cut the right one and it would have been much easier with the hand she used the most. When she realized that maybe the cuts she made were not enough it was too late to make more of them. Her head started to spin and she could not feel her fingers anymore, she started to feel nausea and she just didn’t have the strenght to raise her arm again. So she closed her eyes and tried to breath as slowly and silently as she could: she knew how Grantaire didn’t sleep at all during the night and she didn’t want to be saved. She needed to rest, she needed some peace.

She needed to die.

 


	2. First chapter

First chapter  
  
 _One week before..._  
  
Enjolras always liked being on his own, reading or writing in his room.  
He was not a lonely person, of course, but since he was a kid, he always needed some moments – or hours – for himself.  
He loved the idea of not having anything to worry about except for his own thoughts: those were his favorite moments of his days – locking himself in his room, writing down his thoughts was like fresh air in his world made of useless chatting, where everything that mattered was other people’s opinion. Growing up and leaving his parents’ house, he always tried to keep that behavior and save some time for himself – which was kind of easy, at first.  
He was living alone, so he had all the time he wanted to enjoy nothing but the silence and the sound of his pen on the paper.  
  
Then Jean and Courferyac got both kicked out by their parents. It seemed like being caught having sex on Jean dad’s desk was not actually the best way of coming out – and Enjolras could not leave two of his best friends on the street. Living with them was not as bad as he expected: they were almost ever busy working, studying or having sex on every piece of furniture they could find – except for the kitchen that was, as Enjolras said the second week after they moved in, “ _off limits or I’ll kick your ass out of here in a blink_ ”.  
  
Then, after a few months, Grantaire lost his job and had a huge fight with his father, which – after beating the hell out of him – kicked him out, without letting him take his clothes and stuff. The day Grantaire knocked on Enjorlas’ door, it took Jean just a few hours to convince him: how could he leave the best friend of one of his best friends on the street? So, where once there was just him, now they were four and the peace that used to reign in his house started to lack. Grantaire, that now lived in a small room that before was used as a catchall next to the kitchen, used to listen to loud music at every hour of the day and night and he left his painting stuff everywhere – not to mention the empty bottles of wine that Enjolras used to find all around. But still, he had his room to lock himself in and with a little bit of commitment, he could still enjoy his peaceful moments.  
  
Then everything crumbled when Éponine parents’ decided that she was old enough to live on her own – which was actually just an excuse to rent her room – and one day they packed her things and changed the lock. Enjolras found her on the sidewalk on a September night: her parents’ house was just a few minutes far from Enjolras’: she actually didn’t mean to disturb him, it was just a lucky coincidence for her sitting on that sidewalk – tired because of her four suitcases – just when Enjolras was coming back from his class.  
“Éponine...” he whispered, sitting next to her. Her eyes were full of tears and even though she noticed her friend sitting next to her, she didn’t stop staring at the pavement.  
“Ép, what happened?” he asked, caressing her hair. She looked so pale and sad... She still didn’t answer but just hugged his friend and cried silently. “Éponine...” he whispered again, kissing her forehead. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”  
Suddenly, all her anger burst as she jumped up and looked at Enjolras.  
“They kicked me out!” She yelled, closing her fists tight. “They said they were doing it for me, that I was old enough to live on my own and that it would be good to experience new thing. Bullshit! When I was about to leave I saw my father printing the newspaper ad for my room rent! So I told them that if the money was the problem I could have paid and they asked me 1000 € a month. For my room. And they both know that with my job at the bookshop, I earn just a little bit more than the half of it.”  
She kept yelling and then broke down on his friend’s arms.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you, it’s just... I don’t have a place to stay anymore, and with my job I can’t afford a house on my own.”  
She cried, drying her eyes with her hand and looking down at the pavement. Enjolras, that got kind of shocked from his friend’s break down, sighted.  
“What do you think you’ll do now?” He asked. The girl laughed and shook his head.  
“I have no idea. I’ll probably find a hostel or something, just for a few days and then I’ll look for another job and... God, I really don’t know.”  
The boy sat there in silence, patting Éponine’s head and then, he stood up and started to carry two suitcases to the doorway. “What are you doing, Enj?” The girl asked.  
“What do you think I’m doing? You’ll stay with us.” He smiled, already knowing that Éponine was about to say. “Yes, I know. There is not much room, but we’ll find a way. You can take Grantaire’s room, he won’t complain... well, if not, I’ll make him shut up.”  
He opened the doorway and carried the two suitcases in front of the elevator.  
“Enj, you are very kind and awesome, but... do you realize what that means?” She asked, following him. Judging from his face, he didn’t understand yet and she laughed a little.  
“If Jean and ‘Feryac have the guest room and I’ll take Grantaire’s room... where do you think he’ll live?”  
And suddenly, the truth hit his face like a punch. “With me.” He whispered, dramatically – but before the girl could add another word, he faked his best smile and called the elevator. “It’ll be great! I love being around him!”  
He smiled again, showing every single tooth he had in his mouth. It was actually frightening. Éponine raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.  
“Don’t you actually think I’m going to buy this, do you?” Enjolras sighed and rubbed his face.  
“Okay, it’s going to be Hell but there is no way I’m going to let you live in a hostel. I don’t want you to get raped or cut into pieces.”  
And that’s how Enjolras’ peace finally died.

***

That day, the fourth day of November, they gathered at the Cafè Musain as every Sunday of the year.  
It was not a special occasion but somehow they were all thrilled: Marius had sent everybody a text that morning, to remember them to come to the Cafè that evening – as if they would forget it.  
Apparently, he had a huge news to share with them. He arrived there 20 minutes before the appointment, still later that Enjolras who had been there for 10 minutes when he got in.  
“May I know what this great news is about?” Enjolras asked and Marius just smirked.  
“You’ll know as soon as everybody is here” and that’s what he said to everybody who got in.  
When Éponine and Grantaire sat on their chairs – late, as ever – he took a deep breath and clapped his hands.  
“Well.. Now that finally we’re all here” he started, looking straight into Grantaire eyes, “I can tell you what this mysterious news is about.”  
He stood up and smiled looking at Cosette – which was sitting next to him – and took her hands in his.  
“We are going to get married.” And suddenly, there was just silence. Everyone was speechless.  
Graintaire noticed how Éponine had stopped breathing the second she heard it and he squeezed her hand.  
  
 _We are going to get married._  
  
They were just six words but they were enough to make Éponine’s world crumble.


	3. Second chapter

Second chapter

4th November  
  
They came back home from the Café around midnight and everybody literally ran straight to their room.  
They were so shocked by Marius’ announcement that they couldn’t think about anything else at the moment.   
Éponine – which was the first one to get in the apartment – didn’t even kiss her guys goodnight, as she used to do every night since she moved in. She just waved and walked toward her room, with a sad smile on her face.   
They all stared at her with a sad look on their face and sighed, walking slowly and silently toward their room.   
The girl closed the door behind her back and sat on the bed without turning the lights on. She took some deep breaths and closed her eyes.   
She didn’t want to cry, really, she didn’t. Even if she was alone and nobody could see her crying, she felt like she had to keep the secret. Just a little more, just for a few more seconds.   
She just couldn’t break down, she knew that with just one single tear streaming down her face... well, it would have not been the last, for sure.

A few hours later, around 3 AM, Grantaire –who, as everybody knew, didn’t sleep at all during the nighttime – knocked on her door.

“Ép, I know you’re awake.” He whispered, knocking again. “Come on, let me in. I almost woke up Enjolras to get here and you don’t want me to die so young, right? Please...”   
He knocked again and suddenly Éponine opened the door, leaving him with his fist in the mid air.   
“What do you want, R? I was sleeping.” She whispered with a fake yawn. “Jesus Christ, do you know what time it is? I have class tomorrow, so if you excuse me...” She tried to close the door back and Grantaire raised and eyebrow and walked into her room with a suspicious look on his face.

“First of all, you were not sleeping. The windows are open and we all know that you don’t sleep with the windows open. Second, I can smell weed. Like a lot of weed, which is probably the reason for the open windows. And third, you never smoke when you have classes the next day, so I guess you are not going tomorrow.” He said, counting what he was saying with his fingers. “And fourth!” He added, sitting on her bed. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you had weed? You selfish bastard.”   
He really wanted to make her laugh but all he got back was a sad smile.   
“Here.” She said, going toward the window and taking a joint from the ashtray on the ledge. “What brings you here in the middle of the night?” She asked, crossing her legs on her bed, right next to him.   
“I just wanted to know if you were okay. You literally disappeared when we got home.” Damn it. She knew it was not a courtesy visit. “I am okay.” She lied, taking a drag from the joint. The smoke burnt down her throat, just like the words she wanted to say but didn’t know how. All she wanted to do was screaming and crying and falling asleep in Grantaire’s arms, just like when they were kids and everything they had to worry about was so simple.   
Grantaire looked at her but said nothing. Éponine had been his best friend for years now and he knew how to make her talk without forcing her- which was the best way to make her not talk at all. She was lying and they both knew it: she was in love with Marius, always been and always will – or, at least, that's what she thought. Instead, Marius never really looked at her that way. They were friends – not as close as her and Graintaire or Enjolras, of course – but they cared about each other. The fact is, and this is the main problem with this whole situation, that she cared more. And now the boy she loved, the boy she worshiped, the one who always had her heart was going to get married to a girl he met just three weeks before. As soon as this thought crossed her mind she started to laugh.

Grantaire, who had been silent this whole time, turned his head and gave her a suspicious look. “What’s so funny?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head. At that sight Éponine started to laugh more and more, lying herself on her bed. “Now I’m sure I’ll never understand women. You were about to cry just a few seconds ago.” He said, trying to understand what was going on, looking down the street from the window next to the bed they were on: maybe there was something funny down there and he didn’t notice. Or maybe she was just insane.   
“And now you are laughing so hard that you are actually crying! Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

She stood up and started to walk in circles, clapping her hands. “Don’t you find it quite funny?” She asked, taking another drag from her joint. “I’ve known him for years! Like, all my life! And I.. I love him.” She said those words like she was revealing the most important secret in the human history and snorted when Grantaire didn’t seem surprised at all.

“Ok, so, you knew it. Perfect.” She snorted again and Grantaire looked her in the eyes, shrugging. “Ok, everybody knew it. Peeeeerfect! So now I don’t simply feel like and idiot, I also look like one to everybody’s eyes! But that’s not the point. What I meant to say is... is it ironic? I spent my entire life trying to catch his eyes, burning inside for just one single touch and then, puff, all my commitment gets washed away by a blonde little skinny super sweet girl who does not have a single flaw.”

She was angry, humiliated, frustrated, hurt: every single feeling she had had during those years came back, all at once and she started to yell.

“That’s is not fair! That is not fair! I am the one he should get married to! I am the one he should love! Why does he love her?” Then, suddenly, she got silent. She looked down and up again, goggling and staring right into her friend’s eyes.

“He loves her.” She whispered, as her eyes started to get wet with tears, “He loves her.” She repeated and her voice was shaking ans weak. Graintaire, who got speechless by the sadness he saw in her eyes, opened his arms and she literally ran toward him and hugged him. They laid down and he started to cuddle her, whispering that everything was going to be fine.

They laid there for about an hour before falling asleep, with her sobbing and him whispering sweet words in her ear.

Right before falling asleep Grantaire heard the saddest sentence she had ever said in his presence.

“Why am I not good enough?”


	4. Third chapter

Third chapter

7th November

Enjolras woke up tired that day, more tired than when he went to sleep the night before.  
It was 7:30 A.M. and he was still lying on his bed, without any will or strenght to get up and face the day.  
His room was lit up by a grey and rarefied light because of the clouds that were floating in the sky – and there was not a single ray of sun gettin in from the windows.  
He sighed, noticing how that color was reflecting his mood perfectly: dark and hopeless.  
Éponine hadn’t come out of her room since the announcement day and it seemed like there was nothing able to convince her to do otherwise.  
He was worried and, above all, he felt useless. He always thought about himself as a good friend, caring and always able to help other people and cheer them up. Apparently, he was wrong.  
He tried everything he had been able to think about to make his friend happier or, at least, to eat something and take a shower. Nothing ever worked.  
During those three days he made her breakfast, lunch and dinner, placing them next to the door but she never took them.  
He also tried to write her a note, “ _I’ll leave the lunch here and we’ll disappear”,_ just in case she wasn’t picking the meals because she did not want to see them. But still, she just took the water and left the food on the floor.  
During those nights he heard her opening the door and walking to the bathroom, but he gave up on using those moments to talk to her right after the first time it happened – when Éponine literally ran toward her room after hearing Enjolras opening his door.  
He sighed and stood up when he heard his friend talking in the kitchen. If they were up it meant that it was too late to ignore the clock and keep on lying there. In that moment everything seemed a better idea than standing on his feet and face the day. His body seemed heavier than ever, he could literally feel the gravity taking him down and forcing him to stay right where he was.  
He took a deep breath, then another one and another one again before he was actually able to get up and start walking

.  
While he was walking toward the kitchen he looked quickly at Éponine’s room, that was right next to it.  
The door was still closed.

“Good morning, prince.” Jean said, kissing his cheek. “Had some good dreams?”  
Enjolras snorted and poured some milk in a glass.  
“Cereals?” Couferyac asked, handing him the box. Enjolras just looked at him and took it.  
After months of cohabitation they still did not understand that nobody was allowed to talk to him in the morning. He could not help it: he was cantankerous during the first hours after he had woken up.  
He was always been like that, it was like every sound hurt his ears and he was not able to talk.  
Like, literally not able: even when he yawned, his throat didn’t open properly and the air going through it to his lungs made a strange and weird noise that used to scare everyone around him.  
In the end, everybody got used to it and did not notice anymore, but the not talking thing seemed to be hard to understand.  
Still, that day Jean and Couferyac seemed to understand that their blond friend was not in the mood to chat and they kept on eating their toasts silently.  
Unfortunately, that peace did not last for more than ten minutes.  
Grantaire, who was still awake from the night before, he was sure of it, walked in the kitchen eating a banana – thing that made Jean laugh, followed right after a few seconds by Couferyac.  
“Please, guys how old are you?” Grantaire asked, staring at them. “Come on! You look like some twelve years old schoolboys!” He yelled, ignoring the apologies whispered by the two of them.  
“’Morning, Enj.” Grantaire whispered, blinking at hif friend who was eating his cereals in a religious silence.  
“Someone talked to Éponine?” He asked and they all looked at him goggling. His voice was low, hoarse and a little creepy.  
“Oh my God.” Jean whispered, holding Couferyac’s hand. “He talks.” He whispered again, faking a scared face and making everyone smile. Enjolras looked at him frowning and cocked his head, reproaching him with his looks, without saying a single words.  
Jean coughed. “No, by the way. Nobody talked to her and nobody saw her since Sunday night. She hasn’t come out yet. Last night I heard her drinking something in the bathroom but she was back in her room before I could open my door.” He said with a sad look on his face and Enjolras sighed. He really did not know what to do anymore.  
“Don’t worry, sugar. I’ll stay with her today, you can go to your class without feeling guilty. She won’t be alone.”   
Enjolras looked straight into his eyes and shoke his head.  
“There is no way you are going to stay home today. You already skipped yesterday and the day before, so you are going to class. I’ll stay home, today.” He said, sounding a little bit too much like his own father, thing that made him freak out for a few seconds. “I am sorry,” he added, noticing how Grantaire was looking at him. “I just don’t want you to miss your art class. Your talent would be waisted.”  
Graintaire smirked and shoke his head: yes, his talent, of course.

Half a hour later, everyone was gone and Enjolras was finally alone – except for Éponine, of course.  
He really wanted to help her, and he tried, really, but nothing worked and he had started to feel hopeless and useless. So, without thinking, he just cooked something and placed it on a tray.  
“Éponine. I brought you some chocolate pie.” He knocked on the door and got nothing but silence as answer. “Come on, Ép. I know it’s your favourite. I cooked it, all on my own. Please?” He said again but the girl kept on being silent.  
“Ok, you know what? I’ll sit there till you open this freaking door.” He raised his voice, to be sure that Éponine could hear him. “There, I’m sitting in front the door. Can you please knock on it, just to let me know that you are alive and listening?” He asked, sighing deeply and after a few minutes, she knocked.  
“Perfect. She’s alive.” He thought. Of course, it was just some knocking and it was not such a big step but it was better than nothing.  
“You know, Ép... this thing is not healty. You’ve been locked there for three days now and it is not good for you, really. You have to face this thing, not doing so will only make it worse.” Right after saying those words, he looked under the door and saw her shadow: she was sitting with her back against the door, now. So, knowing that she was listening and paying attention, he started to talk again.  
“We miss you, ‘nine. Really. Everyone is worried about you. Grantaire sleeps even less than usual and the lovely couple”, which was a nick name for Jean and Couferyac, “sleeps in turns, just in case you’d need help.”  
Right, maybe making her feeling guilty was not the best way to make her feel better but it was a good way to make her walk outside of her own room.

  
As mentioned before, the girl was sitting on the floor with the back against the door. She was hugging her own knees, drumming on her legs with her fingers. The air in her room was so heavy and oppressive.  
The leaden light filled it up completely: every single color in that room was now just a shade of grey. It was like floating between two worlds: on one side, the reality. In it there was Enjolras and her friends, the life she had known till then. On the other side of the door, there was her and her new world, made of greyness and rain. Being stuck in between, there was not a definite separation line between the two dimensions. It was like the rythme of the rain on the window glass perfectly fitted with Enjolras’ word and her feelings were like the Seine that day: like a flooded river, they were unstoppable, uncontrollable and senseless.  
She was so tired that she felt like she was merging with the wood of the door. She was feeling so heavy she didn’t even know how she was still keeping her eyes open.  
“Look, I know how you feel, I know that you are sad and depressed and that everything seems... pointless, right now but you can’t go on like this. You have to eat something,  take a shower. You have to start taking care of yourself again, ‘nine. Really.”  
While he was saying it, he frowned noticing how her shadow disappeared for a few moments and then came back when she pulled a note under the door.  
  
 **So, you know how I feel, virgin boy? Please, tell me about the last time you’ve been in love with someone.**

When he read it, he stopped breathing for a second. That was..

“I am sorry.” Éponine whispered, opening the door. Her voice sounded hoarse and unreal to her ears, it did not sound like her voice at all. “I did not mean to be that rude, it’s just...” She took a deep breath and hugged him.  
The boy,  who still had that note in his right hand, crumpled it up and put it in his pocket before hugging her back. He wuold have thought about it later: now, all he had to do, was taking care of his friend.

 

 

 


	5. Fouth Chapter

Fourth Chapter

11th November

Everything seemed to be fine during those four days and everybody felt so relieved. Right after her chat with Enjolras, Éponine had taken a shower and eaten some chocolate pie, the one her friend had cooked for her.   
Still, she refused to go to class but nobody found that so strange, since she had not eaten in days and claimed to be sick. Nobody seemed to notice except for Grantaire who, as always, had some doubts about her new and quickly found stability. It was too good to be true, he was sure there was a trick somewhere. Maybe he was just being over pessimistic as always, but he could feel something when he looked into Éponine’s eyes: something bad and deep and terrible.   
Grantaire always had this strange gift – or curse, as he used to consider it – to feel people’s emotions.   
It was more than just feeling, it was pure empathy. Of course, it could be confusing for him, not knowing if what he felt were his emotions or other’s. He always thought about himself like a mirror for other people’s feelings: he could reflect them but not change them. A mirror can capture the image of what’s in front of it but cannot affect its nature. A mirror is one of the most powerless things in human history.   
So, just like it, Grantaire could do nothing to change what other people felt. He was damned to share things and never fix them. That’s why he had never been able to keep someone too close for a long time. The only way to change a reflection is to break the mirror. He loved his friends, really he did, but there were times in his life when he just could not take it anymore. So, for his own health and other’s, he had to disappear – sometimes phisically, sometimes just with his mind – and recover from all those feelings. You cannot kick a glass for too long and expect it not to break. So, Grantaire had always lived between being whole and being broken into pieces. Still, once you break a glass, there is not way to cover the cracks: you can put it together again but you’ll always see them.   
That’s why Grantaire knew there was no way of recovering at all for him: he would have been broken to his death and even after. Even though what he could feel from Eponine’s eyes was so deep it made his hands shake, he decided not to share with anyone: everything seemed to be back to normal and especially Enjolras looked like someone else since he handled to bring the girl out of her room. He was now even able to sleep more than two hours in a row without waking up to check on her, and Grantaire did not really want to ruin that new peace of mind his friend just found – and, of course, he could use some positive energy in his life.

It was 4 AM when Grantaire’s fear became true.

Éponine was lying on her bed, listening to the sound of the blood drops falling on the floor. Tick, tick, tick... it was like a clock counting down the minutes to her death. She smiled and breathed deeply and at every single drop, her smile got wider: another drop, another step toward the oblivion.   
Dying was not as she expected: there was not a light to follow into the darkness, there were not flashes of her life running in her mind. It was calm and silent and peaceful.   
Except for the pain – which started to fade away after the first minutes – it was just like falling asleep. Just a slower way of slipping into the dreams.   
Her head was not longer heavy as it was when she made the first cut and her body was so relaxed. If someone asked her what it was like to die, she probably would have answered it was like wondering in a fresh fog. Something between peace and confusion.   
Everything around her was no longer clear, things were starting to lose their outlines but it was good. It was a good mess of silence and chaos: somethings she had been waiting her entire life. It may sound like a paradox but for the first time in her life, right when she was dying,  she felt alive.   
She finally understood why people liked to put themselves in danger and what it meant to really be free. She had control over her life now and no one could change it.   
Suicide is the most important act of freedom. When you can decide when and how to die, that is freedom – or, at leat, she thought so. 

That night, the eleventh of November at 4.07 AM, Grantaire walked in Éponine’s room without knocking for the first time since she got better. The girl had tried everything to make them believe that she was fine and that they could start acting again as nothing ever happened, but she could not fool him.   
Of course, when he was with her he pretended not to be as worried as he was, but still he was afraid of walking in her room without letting her know first. He did not know why, probably it was because he was afraid of what he could have found there.

That night he was feeling pretty hopeful without a real reason and he just followed his instict: when he got home after a night with his classmates, he ran toward her room and opened the door, smiling.   
“Éponine!” He laughed, squeezing his eyes to find her in the darkness of her room. He was holding a little plastic bag with some weed in it. “I broght you a little present, sweetheart! Come on, wake up!”  
He turned on the light and his eyes hurt for a few seconds: while hir eyes were still closed, all his senses seemed to be stronger than ever. He was a little drunk but all he could smell and hear was perfecly clear in that moment. When he breathed, a metallic smell hit his nose like a punch and the silence was so deep and creepy it felt almost unreal. Then after those moments of darkness – which felt like hours actually – when he handled to open his still hurting eyes, all his fears, everything he had refused to think about during those days, suddenly came true.

Blood was everytwhere: his friend, who was lying on her bed, was all covered in blood. The stains on the bed, on the floor and on her clothes were so red he actually thought they were fake for a few seconds: they were not as he expected. He always thought about blood as a deep and dense red, without any shades – instead, it was full of them and it was sparkling.   
He didn’t know what to do: he was drunk and his best friend was dying in front of him – if she hadn’t died yet. Was it too late? Did he walk in her room not in time to save her? Did he miss the chance to save his best friend? Maybe just by a minute, maybe...  
His head started to spin and he grabbed the door so tight his fingers hurt. He was not even able to stand properly, how could he save her? So, without thinking more, he just screamed the first name that came to his mind.   
“Enjolras!”  
His voice was hoarse and shaking. He ran toward the girl and fell on the floor, right next to the bed. His head was spinning again but he had to do something. He just could not leave her now. He grabbed her wounded wrist with his right hand and her face with the left one.   
The blood on his hand was warm and maybe he was just fooling himself, but he felt like he could feel her heart beating, holding her wrist.   
“Éponine.” He whispered. “Please, open your eyes. Tell you’re okay, please?” He whispered again, turning his head quickly toward the door.   
“Enjolras!” He screamed again and in that moment, the blond guy came up in fron of him, with just his boxers on and one hand stroking his hair.   
“What?” He asked before walking in, while he was still in the corridor. When he reached the room and he saw what happened, his heart stopped beating for a few seconds.   
Enjolras felt like he was suddenly falling a muffled world and everything around him was going in slow motion. He could see the blood running down Éponine’s arm right to her fingertips, then falling down. He could hear the sound of the impact with the other stains on the floor and those moments felt like hours. He watched it as it crushed and mixed with the blood already fallen next to ther bed.   
He looked up to Grantaire and he could see his mouth moving and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he looked down at Éponine. Enjolras guessed the guys was trying to tell him something but no mattered how hard he tried to focus, he was able to hear or understand anything. He felt like he was watching a scene from the outside, like a motionless witness of a tragedy.  
“It can’t be true.” He kept telling himself, like some sort of hopeless mantra. It was true and his rational part knew very well: he was just not ready to accept it yet.   
How could it be? He had been so careful, so protective. How could he had not noticed any of the signs? They were always been there, right in front of his eyes. Not eating, refusing to go out, the constant and strong will to look fine in front of other people... they were all signs he should have paid attention to.   
Suddenly the images of everything that could have made him understand what she was planning to do started to run in his minds. His head was spinning now and he heard someone calling his name. Grantaire. At first it was like he was miles away from him but his voice kept getting closer and closer at every seconds.  
“Enjolras! She is dying!”  
 _Dying._

With that word, he came back to reality. Enjolras quickly looked all around the room, everything was back to normal. He could finally move and understand what Grantaire had been trying to tell him. Now he could help her.  
“Grantaire.” He called his friend trying to keep his voice steady and calm. “Go to the kitchen and call an ambulance.”  
Grantaire did not seem to move: he was still there, holding her face and her wrist, with his hand covered in blood.  
“Grantaire, Look at me. Look at me.” He said again, taking his face between his hands and forcing him to look him in the eyes.  
“I need you to focus, now. Listen...” Enjolras took a deep breath but before he could start talking again, Grantaire whispered something that nearly broke his heart. “What if she dies?” And then Enjolras did something he knew he should not have done. He promised.  
“Listen to me, all right? She will be fine, I promise. If you want to help her, you have to go the kitchen and call that ambulance. Now. Go.”  
He kept his voice as steady as it was phisically possible for him in a situation like that. “And wake Jean and Feryac up!”  
As soon as he was sure to be alone, he kneeled down next to the girl to understand how bad it was. Éponine was so pale but her heart was still beating. He could barely feel it as he touched the not wounded wrist.   
“You’ll be all right, okay? Just stay with me, please. Stay with me.”  
His lips were shivering and just one single tear drop fell down from his eyes.   
“Don’t.” Éponine whispered in a low voice, so low Enjolras thought he could have imagined it.   
“What? Talk to me, what did you say?”  
“I said...” Éponine took a deep breath as she tried to open her eyes. “Don’t save me.”


	6. Fifth Chapter

At seven a.m., Couferyac and Graintaire were sitting in the waiting room of the Hôpital Européen Georges-Pompidou of Paris – one looking at his shoes, the other looking straight in front of him.  
Nobody had said a word in the last hour and nobody had moved since the last time they had spoken to the doctor, just 20 minutes after they had arrived. Everything around them seemed frozen, like they had been framedin a sad picture. On the other side of the room, instead, Enjolras had been walking in circles for the last 50 minutes, looking for a doctor or a nurse, that could possibly tell him how Éponine was. Jean, on the other hand, had disappeared 10 minutes before, using coffee as an excuse to get out of there.   
He never really liked hospitals, right since he was a little kid. When he was six years old, he had to take out his appendix and while he was waiting for the surgery, he had taken a walk around the corridors with his mom. While she was not looking, he walked in a random room, with just no reason. It was the only one with the door closed, he guessed he just wanted to see what was behind it. When he walked in he saw that lying on the bed there was an old lady – he could not tell how old she was. Her hair was white and silver and even if she was asleep, she was smiling. She had some make up on her face, some light pink lipstic and grey eyeshadow, and her hair was curly and soft. She was lying with her hands on her chest and she was breathing slowly. She had a plastic breathing mask on her face and little plastic tubes with some bandages to keep them still on her arms.   
Jean walked slowly toward her bed, trying to hear the sound of her breathing and trying not to wake her up. As he was right next to her, he touched her hand. Her skin was soft, despite all the lines and the veins she had.   
Suddenly, she had taken a long and deep breath and the machine that was next to her had started to beep faster and faster: the green line on the screen seemed like storm waves and then, there was just a straight line left, right after the beep had stopped and a long high sound started instead.   
In that moment his mother walked in the room with a couple of nurses and one of them, the younger, yelled at him as she ran toward the bed. “What have you done, kid?” She screamed, “What have you done?”

Jean did not understand at first – he had done nothing, he just caressed her hand. Five minutes later, while he was trying to explain why he was in a stranger’s room to his mother, the nurse that yelled at him got out of there and told them that the lady, Miss Oulbrook, was dead.   
It did not matter how many times the nurse had apologized and his mother had tried to convince him otherwise, in his mind he had killed her. He did not know why but he was sure that it had something to do with him. Maybe he had scared her by touching her hand, maybe he had some sort of superpower, maybe he was cursed.   
So, while he was walking toward to waiting room, with two cups of hot coffee in his hands, he could not help but feel some deep and dark shivers all along his spine. It was completely crazy and he knew it but he was afraid that even walking he could have done something wrong, ending up killing someone else.   
When he got to the waiting room, everything was pretty much as he left it: Enjolras was still walking around trying to understand how bad the situation was, Grantaire and Couferyac were still in the same sitting position as before – the only thing that had changed were the hands of the clock.   
“Here,” he whispere, handing a cup of coffee to Grantaire. “may I know what’s going on with him?” He asked then, pointing at Enjolras – who was trying to catch a nurse’s attention banging a hand on the counter. “I’ve never seen him like this. Losing it is not really his thing.”  
Grantaire took a sip from his coffee and turned his head to look at him.  
“Maybe it is because it’s the first time one of his best friends attempts suicide.” He regretted saying so the moment he closed his mouth. Jean loved Éponine as much as the rest of them and he just spitted free venom on him. “Look... I’m sorry, I did not mean to be that rude.” As he was apologizing, he had to move the cup from the right hand to the left one. It was so hot, he felt like his skin was coming back to life again. Since they had walked in the hospital, he had felt like there was a huge piece of ice inside his chest, getting bigger and bigger, pushing all the warmth out of him.   
On the other side of the room, Enjolras was still running after nurses and doctors. He just could not believe that nobody knew anything about his friend. That was a hospital, made of walls and rooms, somebody had to know something. Apparently, instead, nobody did. Not knowing was driving him even crazier – if such a thing was possbile, of course. He was aware that knowing was not the same as fixing, but he was feeling kind of useless, standing there and doing nothing but waiting for someone to tell him something. He knew he could not save her all by himself, but trying to understand made him feel a little better, even if for a second. He felt guilty and responsible, right from the very first moment he had walked in her room and had seen all her blood everywhere. It was him, the one who was supposed to save her, the one everybody looked up to fix things. He had always considered himself as a leader, a guide to his friends – someone to look up to and to call for help. He had tried, only God knows how hard he had tried to save her and make her feel better, during those dark days – when she had locked herself in her room. He had tried everything he was able to think about and it seemed to work. He managed to get her out and make her take a shower and eat something. He should have known that things were worse than what she wanted them to know. He should have understood it from the very first moment she had walked out of her room. Probably there were been so many signs he had – or had chosen to - ignore.   
In that moment, he was not able to think properly, so he just could not remember a single thing from the past few days, but he was sure that it was his fault. And now she was there – he was not even sure where “there” was anymore – slowly dying, just because his subconscious had chosen to ignore every single sign and had decided that she was okay, that he had done anything he could. Since he could not fail in helping people, it was a logical and natural consequence for her to be okay. Enjolras took a deep breath and for the first time since he had walked in the hospital, he sat. His legs felt kind of weird, it was like he had been on his feet for decades and now his bones and muscles just did not remember how it felt like to relax.   
While he was sitting there, a couple of seats away from Grantaire, he started to look around and observe the room he had been in for the last few hours. Of course, he had not found a momento to sit, so looking around to see where he actually was, well, it was not the first thing on his list. That is another sign of how worried and completely freaked out he was – because to observe, it was seriously one of the best things to do for him. It was just his thing, it came natural. He just loved to sit somewhere random and look around, trying to understand what kind of people he was watching, what their lifes could possibly be like and so on. But above all of that, the best thing, the one he just could not avoid was looking for details. Once a week, or even more if he had the chance, he just sat in a random cafè, all by himself, observing the walls, what was on them, people walking around, their clothes, their hair – any little detail his mind could notice. Doing so made him feel powerfull, in a weird and personal way. Sometimes, when he was really in the right mood, he also took notes. He had a little scheme on a notebook where he used to write the most peculiar details of a person and what their personality seemed to be So, now that he was in a waiting room of a hospital, it was the perfect place to unplug his brain and take a break. Even if the room was pretty crowded with nurses, doctors and patients, there was just one girl who catched his attention. She was sitting right in front of him, with his arms crossed and her feet perfectly against the floor, with her knees touching each other. She was looking at her shoes and she had such a serious face: Enjolras could not see her eyes but he was sure, they were not so happy. She had short blonde hair and dark red lipstick. She was so pale but she did not seem sick or harmed.

“Self harm.” Grantaire said, moving next to Enjolras, who turned his head frowning.   
“Self harm, that’s why she is here.”   
Enjolras goggled and looked away, like a child caught doing something he should not have done. How could Grantaire know what he was thinking? He knew him but not that deep to understand what was on his mind with just a single look. Enjolras looked at him again, raising his hands asking “how” without saying a word. Grantaire smiled and shook his head – he certenly was not going to tell him that he had observed him since the first day he had moved in his house, so there was not pretty much to say about it.   
Enjolras watched him looking away and took a deep breath, when suddenly a more important question came up to his mind.   
“How do you know that?” He asked. “How do you know she is a self harmer?”  
Grantaire looked straight into his eyes and just for a moment, a giant red neon sign appeared in his mind: “What the fuch have you done?”  
Grantaire knew there was no way to explain how he had understood she was a self harmer, without explaining other things he just did not want to talk about.   
Mess was done, anyway.   
“Look at the way she crossed her arms, like she wanted to protect his left arm, hugging it. Her left sleeve is pushed and stuck by her fingers, but she did not bother to do it to the right one. So she is not cold, she just has something to hide. Same thing for her legs. Who sits like that anymore? She looks like a stone, she is not relaxed at all. And, if you look closely, you can see she has a little bag in her left hand but she also has a bigger one on the seat next to her. If I were a self harmer, I’d probably keep my cutting tools as close and safe as possible, so that nobody could accidentaly find them. She is pale, but you probably already noticed it but I am pretty sure you did not look at her nails”. Graintaire stopped for a second and turned his head to see his friend’s reaction.. “Do you see her right hand? That dirt under her nails? That’s blood, Enj. She probably scratched her cuts to make them bleed more.”  
Enjolras was speechless: Grantaire seemed to have a great empathy,for someone who used to spent half of his time being drunk or stoned – or both. He had listed all those details as it was the easiest and most natural thing to do for him. Enjolras did not know what to say: maybe Grantaire had a gift nobody was aware of – which could be possible, of course – but there was something wrong with that. Maybe he was just being over-suspicious because of what just happened and he asked what Grantaire was expecting him to.   
“How do you know all this stuff?”  
That was it: the most feared question asked with one of purest and kindest tone of voice he had ever heard.  
“I know that because...”  
Grantaire took a deep breath and looked down. “Because me and Éponine used to act the same. ”  
At first, Enjolras did not understand what those words meant. Grantaire and Éponine used to act the same.   
“What do you mean, you used to...” His voice died in his throat the moment he realized what his friend just said. Graintaire looked at his friend and shut his eyes, praying for him to not go any further with questions. Nobody listened to his prayers.  
“You and Éponine?” Enjolras’ voice was so flebile, Grantaire nearly missed the question.   
“We... well, she found out about me three years ago or something. She noticed all this stuff, this behavior we had in common. I noticed too but I guess I didn’t want to see. She came to me and told me she knew my secret, because it was her secret too.” Graintaire didn’t know where he had found the strenght to talk about it. He had promised his friend never to say a word, to anyone. On the other hand, Éponine had promised him she had thrown away everything that she could possibily use to cut her skin – so, keeping promises was clearly not their thing.

 

“We helped each other and she told me she had stopped. I tried really hard, believe me. I really wanted her to be out of that tunnel – so, when she told me she was okay and when I saw that she didn’t act like we used to, I believed her. Éponine is always been smarter than me. She knew how much I cared about it and she did the same thing to let me know and to make me believe it was all gone.”  
Enjolras listened to those words like his friend was talking about someone else. He just could not believe he didn’t notice that two people he had lived with for so long, two of his best friends, had suffered so much and he never had a clue about it. He felt powerless, useless and completely lost. When he was about to say something, the elevator’s door opened and Marius walked in the waiting room.   
Suddenly, everything that just happened, vanished. He was not in a crowded room with neon lights on: now, everything around him was dark, except for that figured that had just walked him.   
Without thinking, he stood up and gritted his teeth.  
“What are you doing here?” Enjolras yelled, running straight toward Marius, pushing him against the wall.  
He was furious, he felt like his chest was about to explode. He could not even feel his heart beating anymore, it was pounding so hard and fast, it felt like one single, eternal beat.  
Marius was there. He was there!  
“Calm down! What do you mean why am I here?” He asked, raising his hands, trying to get as far as possible from Enjolras’ angry face, litterally trying to get into the wall.   
“I found out what happened and I wanted to be there for her.”  
Hearing those words, Enjolras felt even more furious.  
“Enj, let him go.” Couferyac said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.   
“Let him go?” He asked, looking around for some backup. What was happening? They all knew the truth.  
“Oh my God, am I the only one left with some sanity? You all know it’s his fault!”   
Nothing seemed to happen, they all still looked at them with concerned faces. Just Marius whispered a weak “What?”, more to himself than to Enjolras.  
“What? You are seriously that stupid? She loved you! She had loved you her entire life and you did not even notice?” He yelled, punching the wall right next Marius’ face. “She had done everything a human being can possibily do to make you notice her! She was always there, she listened to you, she used to stay up all night trying to fix your problems! Yours! And now? Now you marry her.” He spitted out those words whit the most reluctant look everyone had ever seen. “Someone you met like, what, two weeks ago? You know what? You shoud be in her place, dying for her attention!”  
Then, right after Enjolras had said the last word, Éponine’s doctor walked out the restricted area.  
And there was silence.


End file.
